Mirror, mirror
by Lollipoplou
Summary: "You were the British Empire, a god among gods. You took what you wanted simply because you wanted it. Alfred was Britannia's favourite toy, and that, is the only reason you fought for him". On the night where the Veil between our world and their's is thinnest, Arthur is the one to protect it. However, it's allot harder when you can't tell who is the monster, and who is the man.


Hetalia - Mirror, mirror

So, first I'd like to apologise for the long break. I've been preparing for university and it's understandable to say that it's been taking a lot of my attention. However, since it's been an age, I felt like I owned it to you all for some content. I must say that while I have no intention of quitting fan fiction, I will say that it may take some time for me begin uploading again. I'd like to thank you all for your patience and I present you a two-shot mini story featuring everyones favourite parallel nations!

Enjoy!

* * *

America, South Carolina, Boone Hall Plantation.

Alfred Jones set the crystal pumpkin punch bowl down heavily on banquet table, and stepped back with exhausted satisfaction. The ballroom looked frickin' awesome. The whole ceiling was entirely webbed up with artificial, dusty cobwebs while long black and orange streamers hung from the chandeliers. The suits of iron that alined with the columns were also dressed for the part with each individually dressed as a scarecrow; some with straw hats and others wielding wicked looking scythes, while hundreds upon hundreds of white balloons covered the floor.

Alfred had had a difficult time convincing the owner of the planation to agree to let him rent the place for the night, until he had forked over enough cash that is. After he had been paid in advance, the owner had bobbed his head like a dog and wished them a good one; enough dosh in his pocket that he could retire early to the tropics. The boss always scolded him for being too free with his money (especially with his national debit, a _super_ touchy subject) but looking at it all now, all done up with the weeks of work he and Matthew had put in, it was worth it.

"Arthu- I mean, everyone is gonna be so impressed where they see the set up" Alfred quickly corrected himself and his brother's chuckle could be heard behind him.

"They'd better with all the effort we've put into it. I'm still finding glitter in places I shouldn't" The quieter twin grimaced with a shiver and Alfred suppressed a laugh at the memory of Matthew with his head buried in a barrel of glitter after he had dropped his phone into it. Okay, not so much Matthew _dropped_ it as he had thrown it for a laugh, and Matthew had been forced to rescue it. It'd been too funny for Alfred to feel bad about. Over on the other end of the hall, at the top of the double staircase, a set of double doors were flung open and Francis pivoted in like a ballet dancer, already dressed in costume with a prim, white tailcoat twirling behind him.

"Violà! Am I not the vision of beauty?" The flamboyant frenchman sang as he dramatically posed against the railing with an swish of his lush locks. Alfred chuckled and pointed up to him.

"A fancy suit isn't a costume dude! Wear something scary!"

"Que?! It is to scary! It's frightful 'ow good I look in it" Francis effortlessly countered with a wink and Alfred gave a chuckle while he saw Matthew shake his head. Some things will never change. Which reminded him…Alfred reached into his pocket and took out his phone. No new calls… A disappointed sigh escaped him louder than he had thought and it drew Matthew's attention.

"He still hasn't called yet, huh?" Matthew asked softly, well aware of who Alfred was waiting for. He'd been acting twitchy all day, constantly checking every ten minutes or so. The sky-blue eyes darkened with an overcast.

"No. Maybe, he's just, y'know busy…" Alfred halfheartedly suggested, the nervous rubbing of his neck the telltale sign that he was more upset than he let on. Matthew offered his most sincere smile and hand to his brother.

"He'll come," He reassured with a squeeze on Alfred's shoulder before smirking, "especially since you broke the record this year with _twenty_ voice mails". The embarrassing detail drew a dark blush and Alfred gave a playful shove in return; Francis watched the endearing display of brotherly affection from above fondly.

* * *

England, Castle Combe, A quaint rose-cottage just a way on the outskirts of the village.

Arthur stood in front of a deep elder green front door, with a large suitcase in one hand and his brother's letter clasped in the other. The sun had long set and the stars shone brightly up above, devoid of any ugly light pollution that would dampen their glow; the early winter air crisp and clean. It would of been a lovely night, had Arthur's business there not entail such a sinister manner.

 _Dear Arthur,_

 _I know you never wanted to return here, but you have to face this. Don't let them provoke you. Don't lower yourself to their level. Don't let what happened last time shake your resolve. That's what they want. The step up's all ready, ten until dawn, you know the consequences._

 _You have do this little brother,_

 _Allistor_

"Always so supportive" Arthur sarcastically spat before he folded the letter and slid it back into his coat pocket, exchanging the letter for the cottage's keys. The lock was stiff from lack of use and when the the heavy door did swing open, it's hinges' groans filled the empty, cold house. Arthur took deep breath to calm himself before he stepped off the doormat and onto the tiled floor, that had a thick layer of dust which stirred as Arthur's shoes kicked it up and disturbed it's rest. There was no real furniture in the cottage, only a steel poster bed with a thin mattress in one of the corners and minimalistic kitchen that was simply a stove, a sink and two storage cupboards; one for tinned and other preserved foods, and one for the ritual ingredients. The distinct lack of a 'homely touch' made it clear that the cottage was not meant to be a place to be inhabited. It was place of work.

Arthur looked up and saw that the spiders had created quite the colony for themselves since the last time he had visited, with the ceiling now grey and wispy from the number of cobwebs that covered it. He briefly considered summoning a wind to blow it away, but quickly dismissed the cruel thought. Who was he to obliterate an entire civilisation like some godly prick? His footsteps bounced off the peeled wallpapered walls as he made his way over to the kitchen and opened the second cupboard to reveal a clustered space of dried herbs, half melted black candles and sealed jars of suspicious dark red liquid. Arthur ignored all of these, (Allistor had mentioned in his letter that the set up was complete) and instead reached into the very back where his fingertips brushed over the familiar leather cover of the desired spell book; when something scuttled over his hand, it took all of his willpower not to squeal like a girl. Maybe he would get rid of the spiders before he left the next morning. Anything that had that many long, hairy legs was just ungodly.

After sweeping the worst of the dust and cobwebs off the book, Arthur sat on his suitcase and opened the aged volume; it's poor spine crackling in protest along with it's yellowed, crisp pages. Gosh it was an old thing, Arthur thought as his finger glided down the glossary in search the chapter he wanted. He was but a babe sitting on Allistor's lap when he had written these pages. He could suggest that they transfer all the information onto a digital platform to better conserve it, but then again, nothing could ever replace the authenticity of a medieval, leather bound tome. The pages fluttered as Arthur skipped to his chapter where in the dim lighting, he could barely make out the beautifully calligraphed title: **_The Speculo_**.

Arthur briefly sat up, snaked a hand into his suitcase to retrieve a thick glow stick, and with a sharp snap, the cottage was gently illuminated in a lime green glow. The Brit set the stick upright so that it's light shown on his page and began to refresh his mind in preparation for the ritual. This time, he would not make the same mistake twice.

* * *

America, South Carolina, Boone Hall Plantation.

"So then I said, 'Tell that to your wife!'" Gilbert bellowed the end of his story with a dramatic slap of his knee and got a polite chuckle from his audience. Alfred smirked as he passed by the group to make his way to the front door and let in more guests. The party was going well so far. The music and food was good, everyone was pacing themselves on the drink and most outrageous costume he'd seen so far was Lovino dressed a tomato. The costume he himself wore consisted of a long, orange coat that breezed out behind him with a 'Jason' mask on his head and a chainless chainsaw in his hand. He looked so frickin' cool, like he'd stepped out of a psycho horror film. Totally, the scariest person here. At least, that was what he had thought until he had opened the door and shamefully shrieked a high pitched scream.

A demonic, skeleton pirate stood on his doorstep, surrounded by four other bloodied pirates.

"Holy shit!" Alfred cried and instinctually slammed the door shut…After an stunned moment, a sheepish knock was heard.

"Uh, Alfred? It's us, the Nordics" Mathieu's muffled voice called through the key hole and Alfred cautiously opened the door by a crack, to see that it was indeed the Nordics; all nations stared back awkwardly, not quite sure what to think.

"Ha, uh, yeah! I knew that! Come in, come in" Alfred ushered inside, scrambling to recover the scraps of his dignity that now lay on the floor. The Nordics gave him amused grins as they entered and walked further into the manor towards the ballroom; sticking close together as they beelined for the banquet table. The night wind blow in at the doorway and Alfred shivered at it's chilled edge. He wished Arthur were here, that he'd at least call to tell him if he wasn't planning to come. Alfred barked a laugh at himself as he closed door. This was pathetic, keening for attention like a lovesick schoolgirl to her crush.

And then, Alfred blinked in surprise at himself. Was…he crushing on Arthur? Was that what he was doing? He definitely showed the symptoms; wanting their attention, wanting to impress them, blushing at the thought… Whoa. He totally had a crush on Arthur. The mental image of them holding hands, together as a couple painted itself inside his mind, and Alfred felt his heart thud harder at the rosy picture. He did, he completely, and utterly did.

He came crashing down from his giddy high when he realised that his internal revelation had no effect on present. Arthur still wasn't here, still hadn't called or texted. All that had changed was that Alfred knew the secretive reason behind his eagerness.

"Hmmm," Alfred hummed to himself as he began to plan ahead. Perhaps it wasn't all bad, after all now that he recognised his feelings, there was nothing to stop him planning his behaviour for the next time they would meet. And, best of all, he had the world's greatest love expert attending his party! A reinvigorated grin spread itself onto Alfred's face as he shut the door and began to speed walk back to the dance floor. The next time he spoke to Arthur, he was gonna sweep him off his feet.

* * *

England, Castle Combe, The cottage.

Arthur shut the tome with a loud _thud!_ He was prepared as he could be for this. After stiffly getting up and replacing the book in it's proper place, he turned back around to kneel down in front of his suitcase. With a flick, he unclasped the latches and flipped up the lid, to reveal three weapons inside.

Of all the magical weapons he and his brothers possessed, only two answered solely to Arthur; the legendary scabbarded sword Excalibur, and the keen, blood thirsty knife Vorpal. There had been much debate as to why the most powerful weapons in the Kirklands' arsenal had such an attachment to him, but in the end it always reached the same conclusion; they'd never truly know. Arthur would admit to himself that he to had a certain attachment to the blades. Preferring to use evil's bane Excalibur for business, and Vorpal when he wanted to get dirty and personal.

There was another weapon in the case, an modified pistol loaded with blessed silver bullets. Dylan would laugh at him for getting them blessed on top of them already being silver, but Arthur didn't want to take any chances. Overkill had no meaning to him after what had happened last time.

He reached out and began to belt up, fastening Excalibur at his hip and Vorpal at his lower back in the harness. He picked up the pistol and checked the magazine. Perfect, exactly how he liked to keep his weapons. Arthur held up his wrist to the glow stick's light and saw that it was ten to ten. Time to go down into the basement. The cottage was freezing now and Arthur's breath came out in hot puffs as he crossed to the very edge of the room to where a reinforced trapdoor lay. The wood that the door was made of was black and a white rune of warding had been painted at the centre. Arthur gripped the hefty iron ring and groaned in effort as he flung open the trapdoor; it smacked down loudly and it's boom reverberated throughout the house.

A thick lump formed in his throat as Arthur looked down at the steep flagstone steps that led down into the cold earth. Cautiously, he descended with one hand gripping the pistol tightly and the other resting on Excalibur for security. The memories of the last time he had walked down the stairs shaking him more than the oppressive atmosphere ever could. He did not have to walk for long, with soon enough the stairway widened out into a four by four dank, stone square room. Four black candles ignited by themselves when Arthur reached the bottom, to reveal the massive, crimson magic circle that was directly central of basement.

Arthur took in a deep breath to steady himself before angling Excalibur and lowered himself to a mediative position in front of the circle, setting the pistol down beside him with the safety off. He could do this. It was the same routine. Nothing to be afraid of. He had discipline, he had patience, he could sit here until the sun rose with his eyes closed.

He could do this. He was strong, and should the worst happen…he had his final ace. But it wouldn't come to that. He wouldn't let it. Above ground, far off in the distance, Arthur heard the first deep chime of the village's church bell.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7…

Arthur closed his eyes and mentally steeled himself for what was to come. He had to do this.

8, 9, 10…Silence. Nothing moved. The only sound Arthur heard was the sound of his own steady breathing and beating heart when-

"'Ello poppet~," The sickly sweet voice drooled from behind the darkness of his lids and Arthur's heart twitched. It was early. Dead on ten, the monster had come knocking. The room's temperature plummeted with it's arrival, and Arthur had to suppress the urge to shiver. Weakness was not an option now.

"I've missed you. Have you missed me?~" It giggled, but when met with silence, it's tone soured like a child who hadn't gotten their way, "Oh. I see. You're going to give me the silent treatment. Come how, Arthur, you know that hurts my feelings". The Brit held his silence, silent and strong like the misty mountains. A faint drumming that sounded like fingers drumming against a hard surface was heard.

"I'd had thought that after last time, we'd be past this silliness. Do you not remember? You came to me inside the circle and we had a fun little wrestling match? Ah~ But then your brothers just _had_ to ruin everything by meanly stabbing me in the eye. You know, if they'd just let you go, I would of taken really good care of you in my dimension" It sighed wistfully before humming as though entertaining an interesting fantasy.

"Yeah. We would have had such a delightful time together. We'd drink tea and I'd feed you cupcakes, sometimes they wouldn't even be poisonous~ I mean, sure, from an outsider's perspective if they'd seen you trying to break my neck during one of our lovely cuddle sessions, they'd think we were trying to kill each other. But me? I think that no one else can understand because it's our special, one-a-kind brand of love"

" _Love?_ " Arthur bitterly felt the word escape from him against his will and furiously cursed himself for the stupid, stupid slip. He could practically sense It's smile curl in the dark.

"Yes. L-O-V-E, Arthur. There's a very thin line between it, and hate" It purred and it's form shifted closer inside the circle towards him.

"Your kind couldn't even understand the concept. You don't love me, you lust" Arthur spat as It inched closer yet again. It's strange magic extended out to read Arthur's thoughts, his emotions and fears; the faces that he held most dear in his extensive memories.

"Have you not ever been guilty of feeling the same? If not for me, than the French nation, or even…the American?" Arthur's heart betrayed his feelings of panic at the mention of his former colony as it drummed wildly against his ribcage while hot blood rushed to his cheeks.

"Ohh~ Struck a nerve, have we? How is the lad? Strapping? Handsome? Gotten over his years of colonial enslavement?" It baited, and Arthur felt anger rise up inside him like a snake.

"Shut up" He hissed through gritted teeth, feeling himself break into a sweat as It began to push against the indivisible boundary of the magic circle. His control slipping in anger, wavering under the increasing mental pressure It applied.

"I watched for a time you know, after your little war. His cries were like a melody, so high pitched and raw as he screamed in his sleep for you to stop hurting him. The poor thing~"

" _Shut up_ " Arthur growled and felt it pressing right up against the edge of the magic circle, their faces only inches apart. It was pouring more strength into it's push now, starting to grapple with Arthur for dominance.

"The first day you saw him, you knew didn't you? You knew that one day he would grow to be more powerful than you, and you couldn't stand it. So what better way to snuff out a bonfire, then to do so while it's still but an ember?"

"I never, once thought-" Arthur choked on nothing, his mouth suddenly dry with his tongue thick and stupid.

"You tried to smother him. Masquerading the leash you kept him on as affection, when all he was to you was another trophy to add to your _glorious_ Empire"

"That's a lie. I loved him, with everything I had" Arthur argued with a heart that felt like it would burst, and could of sworn that an intangible finger ghosted his cheek.

"You were the British Empire, a god among gods. You took what you wanted simply because you wanted it. Alfred was Britannia's favourite toy, and that is only reason you fought to keep him," Arthur flinched away from the cold digit and his hands clenched into tight fists.

"I am not Britannia anymore" He stated inarguably, somehow sounding much more confident than he felt. There was a brief, pregnant pause before It slowly spoke up again.

"No…but he's in there, still a part of you. And well, from your reactions, I now know just what to do to break him out of that cage you've locked him away in" It sinisterly hissed to chill Arthur's blood. Paralytic fear had it's claws around his throats, and was squeezing to cut off his air.

"What, do you mean-"

"The nations that you regard as friends. They are the bars, so all I need to do remove them," The monster continued as though it hadn't heard him. The thought turned Arthur's breath erratic and his bangs plastered to his forehead in a cold sweat. The room was too hot now, so hot that it like he burning from within.

"Oh! But don't worry love~ While my friends tear yours apart, I'll save precious Alfie for last. Make sure you watch as the light leaves his pretty, blue eyes". Arthur's restraint snapped and emerald irises shot open to meet electric blue, only to widen within a millisecond at the realisation of his terrible mistake. Oh no.

What had he done?

"Thanks poppet~," Oliver giggled as he effortlessly leant out of the useless circle, and planted a quick kiss on the shellshocked Arthur's nose, "join me so we can all have some fun~". With that, he vanished in a puff of sweet smelling smoke. It's nauseatingly, overpowering scent violated Arthur's sinuses and made bile jump up his throat to wrench him out of his shocked state. He failed. He'd failed, _again_. They were out, and they were going for the others. They were going to slaughter all of them. Arthur's hands trembled as he looked down at them in crushing, horrified despair, hot tears dripped and fell to splatter against the flagstones.

 _What had he done?_

* * *

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you did, please be sure to leave a review telling me your thoughts, opinions and questions. The more interest this drums up, the quicker the next chapter will be uploaded. Once again, thank you for reading and as always,

until next time folks!


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